


A ghost dressed in weeds

by HushBugger



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Undertale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HushBugger/pseuds/HushBugger
Summary: Flowey realizes what he is, and explains to someone who can understand.





	

Alphys sat at her desk. She heard a shrill yell. “Hey! Open up!” 

“M-most people just knock,” she said, frowning, on her way to the door. 

“Yeah, well, I’m a bit challenged in the appendage department.” The door slid open. A small, golden flower angrily looked up at her. “Remember me?” 

Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Are you…?” 

“Yes, I’m the flower you pumped full of determination. The one from the outside world, that went missing, blah blah blah. I read your notes.” 

Alphys felt light-headed. Her mouth opened, then closed. Half-formed questions whirled through her head. One of them made its way out. “You read my notes?” 

“Yes. That’s what I just said.” 

“Ha ha,” she said vaguely. “Come right in.” 

“Can you give me a hand?” 

She carefully dug up the earth around the flower and put the clod on her desk. Then she sat down. 

“So. How can I help you?” she asked. 

“I want you to fix something.” 

Her face was frozen in a horrible grin. “Did something break?” 

“You could say that. My emotions are all wrong.” He paused. “If I get worked up enough I can become angry. Or scared. But ever since I woke up in that garden, I can’t feel anything about anyone. There’s no compassion. It’s all gone.” 

Again, several questions tried to compose themselves, but only one bubbled up. “Ever since you woke up? But then… before…” 

“Yes, I remember things from ‘before.’ Do you think you can figure it out?” 

She waited for her thoughts to settle down, and started examining the problem. It had been the first golden flower, that grew before all the others. From just before the queen left. The flower that sprouted from the seeds carried from the surface by the prince. The seeds that he left when he collapsed in the garden, spreading his dust… 

“Oh god,” she whispered. “Are you… Asri-” 

“Got it in one,” he snapped. She waited, while he hesitated. “A… friend showed me an old comic book he found in the garbage dump. He said it reminded him of me, because it was about a ‘cool plant monster.’ It’s called ‘Swamp Thing.’” 

“I- I don’t think I’ve heard of that one,” she stammered. 

“I started reading it, and it fit even better than he could have known. It’s about a man, Alec Holland, who is working on a bio-restorative formula. Someone tries to kill him with a bomb. He gets splashed with chemicals and dies in a swamp. Later he wakes up, and discovers he turned into a sentient plant. He wants to be human again. Sound familiar?” 

She nodded. 

“So a scientist starts studying him, to figure out what happened. It turns out that he has lungs, and a heart, and kidneys, but they don’t work. They’re made out of plant matter. They’re useless. So why does he have them? Eventually, he understands. Do you get it yet?” 

She had a suspicion. “Go on.” 

“The Swamp Thing isn’t Alec Holland. It thinks it is, but it’s just a plant. It absorbed his memories. Alec Holland is dead, and he is never coming back. The Swamp Thing is a plant, stuck with memories of a life he never had.” He sighed. “And I’m just a flower that thinks it’s Asriel Dreemurr. I remember everything he remembered, but I don’t feel what he feels. I can’t.” 

Alphys stared at him in horror. “Then why did you come to me?” 

His stem made a complicated gesture, like a shrug. “I guess I just wanted to tell someone. You’re right. This is pointless. I’ll reset.” 

She looked puzzled. “Reset? What do you” 

Alphys sat at her desk. She glanced at her door. She was expecting someone, although she didn’t know who. But nobody came. 

> He isn’t Alec Holland.   
>  He never will be Alec Holland.   
>  He never was Alec Holland.   
>  He’s just a ghost.   
>  A ghost dressed in weeds.   
>  I wonder how he’ll take it?   
>  – Swamp Thing, by Alan Moore 


End file.
